The Back Story

December 31, 2014

All is calm this morning, if a bit sombre. Police boats are
coming in from the Air Asia crash site—a tragic location we were set to sail
through, but then the weather deteriorated and we turned back, abandoning our
passage to Malaysia.
The solemn parade of boats is matched by a quiet gratitude aboard Ceilydh
though. Turning back may have done more than just keep us out of bad weather;
it may have kept Evan out of serious harm.

Sailing in bad weather (with a seasick wife) tends to be a
bit of an endurance sport for Evan. Sometimes he forgets to do the little
things, like drink water. After a busy day of sail adjustments and pounding to
windward we were back at anchor and ready to call it a night. The next morning
though Evan woke up clammy and dizzy; a short while later, blood drained from
his face and he collapsed. Luckily Sarah and I caught him as he went down.

As we steadied him, it was clear he was confused. He
complained his heart was racing but when we tried to take his pulse it was so
erratic it was hard to find. Pale and lethargic we set him up on the settee
with rehydration drinks and began to look at our medical books. We carry
Medicine for Mountaineering and two different Ship’s
Captain Medical Guides. All pointed to some type of arrhythmia and
indicated we should try to get outside medical advice.

Medical care in Borneo is
poor. In an emergency the best option is considered evacuation. When you’re a
cruiser though, especially in a really remote location with no marinas or other
cruisers for backup, evacuation is a last ditch move. I also didn’t have a
clear idea of how I would physically get Evan from the settee, into the dinghy
and on to shore—if it came to that. Even with three of us—this could have been
a difficult manoeuvre.

Our other option was to call for help from one of the Air
Asia recovery boats—but we didn’t want to pull a boat off the crash site unless
Evan’s condition was truly an emergency.

Fortunately I belong to a really excellent web-group of women sailors
who are based around the world. When I put a call out for medical help I was
inundated with support, information and advice and put in direct contact with medical
experts who walked us through how to get a sense of how ill Evan was and at
what stage we needed to get outside help. His pulse had no clear rhythm but
stayed between 70-80 beats a minute—which apparently was a good sign. He also
made slow improvements through the day—finally being able to sit up after four
hours and stand unassisted (if unsteadily) after about six.

As we worked through our crowd-sourced medical intervention,
it was clear that our seemly well-stocked medical kit had a few holes. I know
how to take blood pressure—but the cuff and stethoscope we used to have became
toddler toys and disappeared somewhere along the way. Also our medical-grade rehydration
drinks had been used up and never replaced. We made rehydration drinks with salt,
sugar and water and multivitamins—but having extra potassium and magnesium
would also have been handy.

By dinner time Evan was steady enough to eat. His pulse was
still abnormal but the dizziness had eased. Being New Year’s Eve he opted to
skip the champagne but did manage to help set off early fireworks and blow the
New Year’s horn. Then we danced a dance of gratitude.

Here's to 2015--a year of health and happiness and friends and family

Our emergency was a reminder that our first step in safety
aboard is all about preparation and self-care. Evan will be following up with a
full check-up in Malaysia—but
this morning his pulse is steadier and strong and he feels well. We are incredibly
grateful that the women from Women Who Sail were so generous with their time,
expertise and support. We’re a very long way from home—but through our scare we
felt very close to a network of caring people from around the world.

Our bright green and yellow Klotok slowly chugged up the
river, easing past floating islands of water hyacinths and skirting the edge of
the dense swampy jungle. This river trip, to see the orangutans of Borneo, is one we’ve dreamed about for years. And with
our private boat, friendly crew and delicious meals—the trip was even better
than hoped.

home away from home--complete with great meals, crew and a wonderful guide

Even still, station one, our first stop, was a bit of a surprise.
All the photos I’ve seen of the orangs give an up-close and personal feel that
somehow seems unstaged. What we found was a feeding platform set in the jungle
and roped off from a set of benches. The orangutans were called (yodelled for?)
by the guides after food was set out—giving the whole thing an animal-show-at-the-zoo
vibe. But when the apes began swinging in from the jungle, crossing over our
heads and cautiously sussing out the setting before grabbing a handful of
bananas, it was clear that while these former orphans and illegal pets were
habituated to humans—they’re still wild animals.

juvenile trying to get away from the boar

the wild boars can kill small orangutans--so mama grabbed a stick and whacked this one

Tanjung
Puting National
Park was first set aside by the Dutch Colonial
government in the 1930’s—to protect the resident orangutans and proboscis
monkeys. In 1971 Camp
Leakey was established by
Birute Galdikas as a base for studying the wild Orangutans. But fairly quickly
Indonesian officials began bringing her orphaned and seized orangutans and her
work turned to controversial efforts to oversee their rehabilitation.

gibbon

proboscis monkey

Tanjung Harapan, or station one, was originally a village.
But when it was absorbed into the park boundaries and chosen as a quarantine
and release site, the village was moved across the river. Until about 1995 some
250 wild born orphan and ex-captive orangutans were released here and in Pondok
Tanggui, or station two. The great apes that were swinging over our heads (and
in our friend Sarah’s case, peeing on her) were all the decedents of these
original rescues.

at 5-7 years the little orangutans become independent

Knowing their history made seeing the animals living in the
semi wild seem extra sweet. Watching the young ones come out of the canopy and
scurry to the platform for milk and bananas felt beautifully familiar--like watching kindergarten kids grabbing a snack. Despite
knowing that orangutans are one of our closest relatives (they share 97% of our
DNA) it took watching a mama help her baby down form a tree and another
teaching her baby to climb to feel the deep connection—right down to my DNA.

watching the mamas felt so familiar

We spent hours watching them. At Camp Leakey
we didn’t leave the feeding station until dusk drove us away. And we felt so
rewarded—seeing so many intimate moments between mother and child, and then having a
breathtaking encounter with Tom, the alpha male as he swept past us, close
enough to touch.

Tom the alpha male at Camp Leakey

Our trip back down the river came with even more wonderful
moments: the sightings of six different wild and semi wild orangutans in the
trees on the river banks.

Uning teaching her baby to climb--the most important skill an orangutan learns

Ex-captive and orphaned Orangutans are no longer released in
Tanjung Putting because of the health risk to the wild and established
populations. As we traveled down the river we sighted a mother and baby on the
non-park side of the river, on public land which is being ferociously logged by
illegal cartels planting oil palms. When I asked our guide, Rini what will become
of them she was sadly straightforward with the harsh facts—unless the logging
is stopped, they’ll die. The best case is a logger might rescue the baby, which
would then go into a quarantine site and eventually rereleased in a safe place.

The problem is the lack of safe habitat. New release sites
take community involvement. The village that was moved across the river from Tanjung
Harapan, or station one, is developing a new release site on re-forested
public lands. Other release sites border the park, but they are at constant risk
of being logged.

Uning and Maia make eye contact

The hope comes with Indonesia’s new president Joko
Widodo, who has pledged to halt the illegal clearing for palm oil. It also comes
with each of us refusing to buy products that contain palm oil—which is found
(and often hidden in) more than 50 percent of the goods we use every day, from
shampoo to cookies…

The details: Our trip was arranged by Adi. He meets many of the boats that come into the river and his price was significantly lower than the internet quotes we got (and our food seemed better than many of the other boats!)
His number in Indonesia is 0822-5553-1505. The price for the four of us with all meals, guide, boat crew and even a guard for our boat was 7,800,000 rupiah ($618 US) plus tips.

A wild baby orangutan--who was unlucky enough to be born on the wrong side of the river

December 25, 2014

What happens when three heathens and a Jew set off from Bali
across the Java Sea
to Borneo in the middle of Hanukkah? Light
winds and pleasant days, it turns out. We’ve been worried about being the last
boat through Indonesia
this season. Perhaps we’ve been lucky, but the weather has been pleasant and
easy for most of our trip and our thought is if you’re leaving Australia late,
don’t fret too much. The bonus of being later in the season is you’ll have just
about every anchorage to yourself and the flies…

colourful boats and spa day

To date our passages have been similar to those we’ve read
about; light winds and the occasional rain squall. We dodged one particularly
intense squall (lightning but not wind) on our way to Kumai. But most of our
days were spent admiring a flat sea and the flamboyant fishing boats that ply
the waters. Here and there we got a few hours of sailing but it stayed pretty
calm the whole way across. Each evening we lit the Hanukkah candles and Sarah
tried to teach Maia the ancient prayers. When it turned dark, we watched the
AIS for big ships, and squinted into the dark for signs of fishing boats and
tugs.

Rain of biblical proportion greeted us when we arrived in
Kumai, making us wonder just how much rain
there really is in rainy season. But as we settled into our anchorage and
finally started our Christmas preparations (decorating, wrapping gifts and
turning Indonesian meat into mince for our Christmas Eve tourtiere) the sun
shone. And then we were visited by Adi, who is arranging our tour to Camp Leakey—to
see Orangutans and who’s also getting us diesel and having our laundry done.
Goodness, we’ll miss Indonesia…

Christmas Eve, on an exotic river, in a far away land was
kept familiar with traditions we’ve accumulated along our journey. We added a
new movie (how did I miss “A Christmas Story”?!) and Dylan Thomas’ reading “A
Child’s Christmas in Wales”.
And we ate tourtiere and Maia’s Christmas treats.

Maia, the teen goes to bed later than Maia the kid used to
do, so the grownups stayed up longer than planned. Christmas morning we were
woken at 4am morning by a chorus of Muezzins calling out across the Kumai River,
drowning out the soothing jungle sounds. The Muezzins woke Charlie the cat, who
woke Maia the teen (who’s still a child at Christmas), who rewoke us, and by
6am, as the Muezzins began their second call (which we’re guessing had nothing
to do with the birth of Jesus), we were opening stockings. By 8am the gifts
were open and our 6th Christmas afloat (and our second with our dear
friend Sarah) was well underway.

We’re so grateful that we have this incredible opportunity
to spend familiar holidays in unfamiliar places; to mix the wonder of the world
with the comfort of home. We’re reminded of the friends and family we deeply
miss, and those we’re yet to meet, and wish each of you the happiest of
Christmases.

December 17, 2014

At the risk of offending all the Bali lovers out there, I
have to say it; we don’t love Bali. Part of
the reason is as boaters we didn’t long to arrive here from a foggy winter
somewhere. And our first view of the sky meeting the sea isn’t from a hotel
room window in a nice neighbourhood. Instead we come to Bali
through a polluted harbour that’s located on the wrong side of a garbage dump.

Garbage in Bali is as much
of the landscape as Gunung Agung, as it sticks its head out from a low-flyin'
cloud. There was a sign on the beach in Kuta apologising for the trash in the
surf and explaining the floating plastic bags were a ‘natural phenomenon’
linked to rainy season… Yesterday we watched dolphins leaping through an island
of plastic. When we swim we need to swat bags out of the way.

Bali is a handy place to have guests join us--our friend Sarah has arrived for a few weeks on the boat

But for us, the bigger loss is with the people. We’ve met some
of the kindest people we’ve ever encountered in Indonesia, people who continuously
make us fee like honoured guests and who seem invested in making us feel like
we’ve found something special. We still catch glimpses of the kindness here
(the fisherman who came out in the pouring rain to guide us past Lovina’s reef
last night for instance) but mostly the saying we encountered on our first day
holds true, “Westerners come to Bali for peace of mind, Indonesians for a piece
of your wallet…”

We were pretty impressed with our newly acquired Batik skills

Looking past the garbage and the hawkers we still saw some
of the Bali that people love so much. We
happened upon an incredible driver, Made Sumartana who toured us around for a
few days. We gave him our wish list and he took us through the insane traffic
to temples that looked over volcanoes, to rice paddies and batik lessons (not to
mention massages and grocery shopping).

In the quiet moments he told us about his life as a Balinese
Hindu and explained some of what we saw around us. It felt like if we stayed
longer and searched more deeply under the surface that maybe the Bali
people dream of was still here. We could also imagine Bali before its most recent tourism boom. Not sure when it happened but for Aussies this is the place
to come and get stupidly drunk while for busloads of Chinese tourists this seems to be the
place to shop and then make the bathrooms really messy.

A huge benefit of Bali is all the options for stuff to do--Maia took a great trapeze class (that's her flying through the air!)

Maybe Bali has called to
too many people over the years. And maybe rather than finding their own special
island everyone has flocked to the one with an international airport. But for us BaliHa’i has slipped away. We’ll sail on and find our own special island.

Diving the Liberty wreck

We did find a few great things in Bali:

If you are looking for a safe driver, Made Sumartana has a
clean seven passenger mini van. For about $50 a day he’ll take you anywhere
you’d like to go 0878 6172 5409 or imadesumartana74 at gmail.com

We loved our traditional Batik class with Nyoman Deking. $45
for a three hour class in his lovely garden. Dekinga at hotmail.com

December 4, 2014

We’re anchored in the pretty islands off the south western peninsula of Lombok. Sailing canoes regularly glide
past, dodging the pearl farms and fishing platforms, and last night we heard at
least four competing muezzins calling people to prayer.

It’s very different here than the regions of Indonesia we’ve
been traveling through-and not just because it’s green. There’s much more
industry; with dozens of pearl farms on the water and illegal gold mining in the
hills. There’s also more tourism; each island seems to have some sort of small
resort or guest house.

The other big difference is we don’t seem to be a novelty
anymore. We’ve seen a half-dozen cruising boats in the distance and since
arriving on Lombok the only visitors we’ve had were six customs and immigration
agents (somehow Kupang failed to formerly register us) and a dugong.

Visitors are both the pleasure and pain of Indonesia. When
kids come after school, they’re the best and funniest entertainment ever,
though when one boat comes, you need to be prepared for several more. We’ve also
been woken at the crack of dawn one too many mornings with the call of ‘selamat
pagi’ from the water. While the early hour can be trying, we tend to
rally and rise because the visitors are often charming.

checking out the ships being built in Wera

One common reason people seem to paddle out to the boat is
to get a chance to practice English. In the shipbuilding village of Wera
the local English teacher came out to see us twice. He was interested in
chatting about politics and learning how other democracies work (Indonesia
considered a new democracy and had a dictator until 16 years ago). He was also interested
in knowing what we thought about Indonesia—how it might evolve and
what steps it should take. When he left we gave him my spare (and very heavy)
English Dictionary—a gift that brought him to tears.

Bian was very cuddly with all of us

On the pretty island
of Medang a young coconut
farmer called Bian was a regular visitor. He showed up early the first morning
with a gift of coconuts and eggs with the hope he could speak English with us.
Bian’s English was limited but (but not as limited as out Indonesian) so we
spent a fun hour teaching each other the words for waves, wind, thunder storms
and more.

it's been a while since we've seen this much green in one place

While he visited I wished for the umpteenth time that we had
bought spare copies of our Lonely Planet Indonesian phrase book. Every
Indonesian who has used it has been reluctant to let it go. If I had it to do
again I’d be sure to buy a bulk pack of them or search online for a good phrase
book—then make lots of copies.

It’s quieter without the calls of children and a little
lonelier too—but I guess like the green hills and rain clouds it’s just a sign
that we’ve moved on to another new adventure.

About Me

Our family of three (+ feline) just finished sailing around the world. This blog contains the story of our travels and experiences, thoughts about the world, and on Maia's blog you'll also find the occasional rant.